The Final Quarter

by Anne Lange

  He dipped in, nuzzled her neck and whispered in her ear, “Not even a hint?”

  Although she was annoyed with him, that little bit of foreplay left her wanting more. If they’d had time, she’d have grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him back to the bed.

  “Nope. I’ve got some secrets to keep too.”

  Regret flared in his eyes, but he stepped away. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “You’d better. I love you, Mitch.”

  “I love you too, babe.” He turned away.

  She stood in the doorway and watched him walk down the hall toward the elevators, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his head tucked down to his chest.

  “We will have that talk, Mitch. And I’ll want the whole story,” she called out to him.

  He paused, but he didn’t look back.

  When she heard the ping of the elevator, she stepped into her room, letting the door close with a solid click behind her. She slid the lock in place and flipped the deadbolt over. Then she dropped her forehead to the door.

  They’d never had problems communicating before. Was this the mythical seven-year itch? She knew Mitch loved her, and he’d always had his moments when he became introspective and maybe even a little distant, but not like this—nothing like this.

  Her gut told her his injury wasn’t the only thing bothering him. She knew his childhood hadn’t been the easiest. But he’d found a home with Elaine and Grant. Siblings in Mason, Jack, Ethan and the girls. Where most kids in their situation ran as fast as they could the moment their stint in the system came to an end, he and his foster siblings had stuck closer to their new home. The Grants gave them unconditional love and support. He was the man he was because of their influences.

  So why wouldn’t he confide in her?

  Serena backed away from the door and turned into the room. She needed to decide what to do before she hit Seattle. She could just create a romantic atmosphere in her hotel room. But that wasn’t drastic enough. What about a club? She could take him to an adult club. Dance for him, maybe. She’d stripped for him, silly teases in the privacy of their bedroom, but could she do one in a more public place? She snorted. Christ, I gave him a blow job in a bar, so how bad could stripping be?

  She hurried over to her computer and powered it up. A quick Internet search should tell her if there were any clubs like she was thinking about. They’d never been to one, but she knew they existed in most major cities.

  After fifteen minutes of roaming through sites and dismissing a few really raunchy-looking establishments, strip clubs and what appeared to be BDSM dungeons, Serena finally found what she was looking for. She happened upon a discreet ad for an adult club that boasted sensual elegance, class and, most of all, discretion. In fact, a location wasn’t even provided. Not even photographs. A very simple, almost non-existent website with descriptions of what could be found, should you be looking for what they offered. And a phone number along with testimonials. It could be a complete scam. But if it was, why not use more overt advertising like the others?

  Serena glanced at her phone sitting beside her laptop. Should I? Would Mitch be okay with this?

  Biting her nails, she rose from the chair and paced the room. What if he didn’t like it? They could always leave. She’d never go to a place like that on her own, but she’d be safe with Mitch. And she could always give Mason a heads-up on her plan. Worst-case scenario, they may simply spend an evening dancing then return to her hotel. As a contingency, she could always purchase a few candles, and she’d brought a few pieces of lingerie to wear that she knew were his favorite. They could play in her room if it came to that. Maybe she could buy some silk ties and have him tie her up. Or, better yet, use them on him.

  But a club would be so much sexier. More provocative, and something totally outside their norm. And if he was into it, the atmosphere, the experience of being in a place like that could be highly arousing. Arousing enough to forget his problems for one night?

  Serena returned to the desk, plopped on the chair and snapped up her phone. Before she could change her mind, she punched in the phone number and waited for the call to be answered, totally expecting to be forwarded to an automated service.

  “Hello?”

  She almost jumped out of her skin when a deep, smoky, human voice responded on the other end.

  “Um…hi. Is this Club Daring?”

  “It is. And you are?”

  “Serena Ryland.”

  “Hello, Serena. I’m Doug. By the way, we avoid last names here. What can I do for you?”

  Damn, she hadn’t even thought about that. She wouldn’t want to get her husband in any sort of trouble if he were recognized. She shook her head over her naivety. She’d deal with that issue later. “Well, my husband and I will be in town for a couple of days next week, and we’d like to visit your club.”

  “Do you know what type of club this is, ma’am?”

  “I do. Or at least I think I do.”

  On the other end, that rough voice laughed a low, raspy and utterly sexy sound. “Well, I’m sure even if you think you know, the reality will be beyond your expectations.”

  Confused, she picked up the hotel pen on the desk and slid the small pad of paper close enough so that she could doodle. “It’s an…uh…an adult club, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And from your website it says there’s a dance floor and a bar.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Are there private rooms?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” She noticed she’d doodled a heart and added her and Mitch’s initials.

  “On what you want to use the room for.”

  “Oh.”

  “Serena, I operate a club for couples. I don’t allow single men or women to come on their own. There is a cover charge. Cash bar, though no liquor is served. Yes, there’s a dance floor and there are a handful of private rooms.”

  “And are people having sex?” She assumed that’s what the rooms were for.

  “Many nights, everyone simply dances.”

  That wasn’t a no.

  “Will people expect us to have sex with them?” She couldn’t do that. And she didn’t want to share Mitch with anyone either.

  He chuckled. “No, Serena. You will not be hauled into an orgy or jumped the minute you walk through the door. There are rules. And I assure you, no means no.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. “That’s comforting to know.”

  “Are you and your husband both on board with coming to a club like this?”

  “Ah…” What exactly did he mean by that? “We’ve never been to one before,” she said. “I’d like to have my husband meet me there.”

  “Unfortunately, you do have to come together. Neither of you would get past the front desk on your own. And I have to be assured you both want to be here.”

  “Oh. Well, then I guess I can have Mitch meet me outside first.”

  “That would work. You’d have to sign some papers and pay the cover charge before we allow you upstairs.”

  “What kind of papers?”

  “A non-disclosure agreement and a guest waiver form. Essentially, it means that since you’re not a full member of our club, you’re only there on a visitor’s pass. You’ll have full access to the club, though.”

  “What’s the non-disclosure for?”

  “To protect you and us. You’ll notice that our website didn’t advertise our specific location or show images of the inside of the building. We prefer our privacy. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Absolutely.” The last thing she’d want is for Mitch’s picture to be spread around town advertising that he was at some sort of sex club. That would not be good for his reputation.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. What if somebody saw them there, took a picture then posted it on the web? He’d be ruined. Maybe even lose his job.

  “You know, now that I think about this, perhaps it’s not s
uch a good idea. My husband can’t afford—”

  “Serena. Mrs. Ryland. I assume your husband is Mitch Ryland, the quarterback for the Minnesota Mayhems?”

  Crap. “Yes.”

  “I can promise you that your privacy will be respected at my club. Cameras are not allowed. There are no security cameras outside, either. And I retain security staff both inside and outside the building to ensure my members’ identities are protected.”

  “Well—”

  “You can safely come to my club. I can even reserve one of our rooms for you if you’d like.”

  She wanted to do this for Mitch. They needed to do something fun, exciting and out of their comfort zone. She wanted to add some zing to their relationship, and this was something she’d always wanted to try. She needed to get her husband back.

  “Okay. Thank you, Doug. Can you email me the paperwork and I can complete it and bring it with me?”

  “Certainly, and I’ll give you our address when I send the documents. Just let me get a pen to take down your email address.” She heard a rustling noise in the background. “You just confirm the night you plan to visit us. If you tell me what time we can expect you, I’ll even arrange for somebody to meet you outside and show you in. Do you have a special plan for the evening?”

  “This is a surprise for my husband.” Although he couldn’t see her, her cheeks heated with embarrassment. Thank God she wasn’t face-to-face with the man. “I plan to do a striptease for my husband.”

  His friendly chortling mortified her, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “I have the perfect set-up for you. You’ll be in a somewhat private area but still in the public venue. You can do your dance there, then I will give you access to one of the private rooms I mentioned, should you want to use it afterward. The club is fairly dark, so most people probably won’t even take notice of you.”

  Perfect. “That sounds just like what I’m after. Thank you, Doug. I really appreciate this, especially on such short notice.” She gave him her email address then ended the call with a promise to send the required information in the next couple of days.

  Next, she booked her flight and hotel for Seattle. She still needed to choose locations for the photographs she intended to take for her client. Serena checked the time. Damn. It was getting late, but she decided to focus on her job for at least the next hour before her head hit the pillows.

  Then she could determine how best to seduce her husband at an adult sex club.

  Chapter Eight

  Mitch stood along the sideline, watching his teammates scramble in frustration for the ball. When his replacement was sacked for the third time after hesitating too long—again—Mitch dropped his head in his hands.

  “Damn it!” Coach stomped down along the bench, his attention on the field, but his anger evident in the way he scrubbed his hand down his face.

  They were losing. Their third loss in a row. Soon, the guys would start blaming him. Fuck. He needed to get back in the game.

  Mitch wandered over to where Coach stood looking through his playbook.

  “Let me in, Coach.”

  He swung his head in Mitch’s direction briefly, sighed, and went back to flipping through the plays and assessing their potential options.

  “Not happening, Ryland.”

  “But I can help.”

  “Not unless the doc has cleared you to play. And I don’t recall seeing the clearance form passing over my desk, or landing in my email.”

  “But I’m fine.”

  “Look, son, I know you’re frustrated. And I’m pissed as hell that I don’t have one of my best players out there, but you know the rules. Until the doctor tells me you’re cleared to play, your ass is over there on the bench.”

  With a growl, Mitch returned to his seat just in time to see their quarterback hit the ground once more.

  “Christ. He’s been doing fine during practice. What the fuck is up with his shit performance?”

  Mitch glanced down the bench to where a couple of the guys huddled. Both were suited up and ready to tag in at a moment’s notice, their focus on the field, but their anger palpable.

  “We need Ryland in there.” Their attention shifted to him, but he turned his head to look the other way, not wanting to see the condemnation and blame on their faces.

  He was letting his entire team down.

  The home crowd jumped up and cheered loudly. Mitch looked down the field to see one of their wide receivers dancing in the end zone. Another touchdown. Seattle was stomping all over the Mayhems. He checked the scoreboard for the remaining time and shook his head. They had no hope. The gap was too large.

  He let his mind wander to Serena. He wondered what his sexy wife had in store for him tonight. Based on the text he’d received just before the game, all he knew was that he had to dress for a night out on the town and she would send him the address later. He was anxious. Mad at himself for the way he’d left her last week.

  He knew she deserved the truth. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell it. If she found out how this all began, she’d backpedal so fast, telling him it didn’t matter. But it did. It mattered to her. Therefore, it mattered to him. And he felt like shit for being the reason she might not realize one of her dreams.

  They’d talked on the phone since then, and he’d apologized, but he vowed to make it up to her in person. And after tonight’s game, he’d need the distraction.

  The noise in the stands overwhelmed the music coming from the sound system. As the clock wound down, the crowd’s excitement heightened, knowing they had this one in the bag. Mitch made a mental note to call the trainer tomorrow to add an extra session to his workout. Then he’d go see the doc and beg the man to clear him for the next practice.

  The fans began the countdown to the final seconds. When they hit zero, they roared their approval, the sound deafening considering that the team that had just kicked their ass was the underdog in their division.

  He glanced over to see his other teammates and the coach, heads hanging, shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn’t stick around. Mitch slipped away and headed back to the dressing room. Since he wasn’t in uniform anyway, he simply grabbed his stuff from his locker and hurried from the room. He didn’t want to be there when the team got back. Coach may penalize him for not sticking around, but he didn’t care. No way did he want to see the looks on their faces—frustration, anger, blame. Guilt ate away at his gut as it was. If he added any more to it tonight, he’d be in no shape to spend the evening with Serena.

  Mitch exited the stadium and hailed a cab. Climbing into the back seat, he gave the driver the name of his hotel then he sent a text to his coach, apologizing for bailing before the debrief, saying he’d received an urgent message from his wife. Then he checked his messages again. Finding one from Serena, he opened it.

  I’ll meet you at 9 p.m. Take a cab to 1457 Hanover St. W. I’ll be waiting for you outside the entrance. Luv you, xoxo

  That was it. He still had no clue where exactly he was going or what they were doing. She’d only told him earlier to wear decent clothing for a night on the town. What the hell did that mean?

  Back in his room, he ordered room service then showered and changed. He assumed he didn’t need more than thirty minutes to get to where he was going. So, at eight-thirty, he hailed yet another taxi and gave the driver the new location.

  ”How long a drive?”

  “Not long, sir. About fifteen minutes, depending on traffic.”

  Mitch sat back against the seat and simply watched the goings-on around him. He checked the time.

  The sun was setting, creating an orange glow in the sky. Most of the people strolling around in the downtown core seemed to be heading to or from dinner. Outdoor patios bustled with couples and larger groups. The start of the weekend relaxed everyone’s pockets. A faint squealing of tires followed by the blaring of a horn didn’t even phase him or the driver.

  When the cab slowed to turn down a narrow side street,
Mitch straightened in his seat. It pulled to a stop in front of a tall industrial-looking building, he strained his neck looking up. The building, a warehouse of some sort, reached probably ten stories. Very nondescript, but large, taking up almost the entire block. A coffee shop operated out of one corner, opening onto the facing street, an entrance to a garage next to it. The big steel door was down and it appeared to accept card access only.

  They’d stopped behind three other taxis. Mitch watched as the passengers in the other cars unloaded. Couples, mid-thirties and higher, dressed as though heading to a dance club. The women wore short dresses and high heels, the men dress pants and shirts, even jackets.

  “That will be fifteen dollars.” The gruff voice of the driver distracted him momentarily. But while he fished his wallet from his back pocket, he noticed a door open and light spilling out onto the sidewalk. The couples entered, the door closed behind them, and the sidewalk turned back into a shadowed walkway.

  This is where Serena is meeting me?

  Mitch handed the driver a twenty. “Keep the change.” He climbed out of the car and stood on the sidewalk. Where was his wife? Was he even in the right spot? He looked up and down the street. People walked by, nobody paying him any attention. Just as he pulled out his cell phone to text her, the door opened again and she stepped out.

  “Hey, Handsome. I hoped to beat you out here.” She hurried over, wrapped her arms around him and tipped up onto the toes of her very sexy shoes to press her lips to his. “Sorry about the game,” she whispered close to his ear.

  Not the thing he wanted to talk about—or even think about right now.

  “Christ, you look freaking hot.”

  His wife glanced down at her very short dark maroon dress. It hugged her breasts, but provided a bit too much public cleavage for his comfort. The skirt flowed over her hips, barely covering her ass. She wore black, open-toed stripper shoes. “Where are we, Serena?”

  She slid her hand down his arm and entwined her fingers with his. “Come on, I’ll show you. I came a few minutes early to pay the cover charge and give them the information they needed. You just have to check in with the receptionist.”